Just a Stupid Bet! D:
by violonforte
Summary: Hungary bets Prussia that Austria can beat him in a sport. Naturally, Prussia challenged Austria to a sport of his choice, thinking Austria does not have a sport and would never accept. Forgetting that Austria is the de facto champion at Alpine Skiing.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Just a Stupid Bet! D:  
**Author**: Me  
**Warnings**: none, really. If you're here, then you should be prepared for shounen-ai. OOC-ness, though I tried my hardest to keep them in-character.  
**Rating**: T, for a kiss at the end.

De-anon from the kinkmeme.

**Full Request**:

So it's common knowledge that Austria sucks at everything that is not a Cultured Gentleman's Pastime, Ever. And that he has no stamina. And that his sports history has always been pitiful. So one day Prussia taunts Austria into a bet using a sports of Austria's choice, thinking that Austria has no sports of choice and thus will never accept.

Forgetting that Austria is the de facto Olympics Champion at Alpine Skiing.

So he's surprised that Austria gracefully accepts his challenge. And guess what Austria picks. Also, Austria ends up just. Wiping. The. Floor. With Prussia.

Pairings not necessary, but if needed, anon is partial to any combination of the Frying Pangle.

Bonus : Switzerland provides sarcastic narration during the skiing contest.  
Bonus 2 : The bet on Prussia's side is that if Prussia loses, he has to attend the 18+ hours Nibelungelied opera with Austria and _behave all the way_. What Austria bets is up to anon.

[EDIT; forgot this important thing.] **Disclaimer**: APH is not mine.

* * *

Part 1

Japan looked at Hungary as she put down the phone.

"Well?"

"They're coming."

Hungary smiled and ticked off another name on her list. This was all going according to plan. She reached for her phone and dialled another number, smiling as the person on the other line answered.

"Yes, Russia, good afternoon!"

* * *

Smoke was practically escaping from Japan's head. "Please, Greece-san! Not here!"

But Greece, who was half-sitting on Japan's lap facing him, did not reply. He simply moved closer and blinked, the effects of alcohol starting to seep in. Japan's faced reddened a lot more considerably, and not just from the alcohol or the proximity.

"ANIKIIIII~~~~"

"Waaa! Aru!~"

"You freaking bloke, America, YOU RUINED ME!"

"Veee~ Doitsu, I want more!"

Hungary smiled, smiling as some people brought in more beer. She pushed a wad of money toward the bartenders. "Do not serve soft liquor, do you hear me?"

The head bartender subtly nodded and took the money.

The people were already getting drunk. Hungary was thankful for all the cameras she had positioned in strategic places in the room; she would make a lot of money from all the films she'd be able to create from tonight's event. She smirked, knowing that her costumers would actually be the people who are in the film itself. She looked around, nearly salivating at the sight before her. Oh, it was beautiful.

"Great party," said Taiwan, who was sitting beside her.

"Thanks. But the action hasn't really started yet." With that, she stood up, dark humor glinting from her eyes. She approached Prussia, making sure that Austria was in her line of vision.

Austria blinked as Hungary and Prussia (with noticeable tugging from the former) sat down in front of him. He inclined his head at Hungary and smiled a little.

"Good evening, Hungary. You are quite the host. This is a great party," Austria said.

"Thank you, Austri – "

"Oi, Specs! Why aren't you noticing me?!" Prussia interrupted.

"Why aren't you _taking notice of_ me, Prussia. And I was about to; I just happened to greet Miss Hungary first," Austria corrected stiffly.

Prussia cackled and winked at Hungary. "Anyway, the awesome me is here to settle a score between _Miss Hungary,_ here and me."

Austria narrowed his eyes distrustfully. "And what is this _score_ about?"

"You, actually," Prussia's smirk grew wider as Austria both blushed and narrowed his eyes (even more!) at the same time.

"_Actually_," Hungary interrupted quickly before the two started bickering. "Actually, it's about the two of you! I really think that you can beat Prussia at something physical! Something that doesn't necessarily involve gentleman-like properties."

Prussia cackled at the innuendo as Austria held his forehead in his palm. "Hungary," he started to beg.

Hungary became significantly redder as she realized what she just said. She started waving frantically."No! It's not what you think it is! I – "

"Sports, specs. She thinks you could beat me in sports. Would you think of that! You little skinny, scrawny, stamina-less pansy, beating the awesomeness that is me? Kesesesese~ Have you ever heard anything so stupid?"

"ARE YOU CALLING ME STUPID?!" Hungary shouted, brandishing her frying pan.

"Wha – OH, NO, HEY HUNGARY! STAY AWAY! WAAA – " thunk.

Austria, now convinced that he was thinking a different thing entirely, shook his head, chuckling to himself and sipped some more of his drink as Hungary chased Prussia and delivered another two bangs. She imperiously pointed back to their table, to which Prussia grouchily returned with a hand to his head and a grimace. Austria ignored Prussia's pained sounds and addressed Hungary.

"I'm afraid that I don't entirely understand what it is you want me to do," he told her.

"A competition!" she proclaimed proudly. Austria blinked.

"Hungary, I know what I can do. I feel utterly no compulsion to compete with… the likes of… _that_."

"Ohohohoho~" Prussia cut in. "What do I sense? Is Specs… _scared_ of losing to the Awesome Me?"

"What? I did not – "

"Oh, don't worry, it's quite common to lose to me. I'll even go easy on you!"

"I beg your – "

"After all, such a pansy could not even hope to compare to – "

Austria stood and grabbed Prussia's arm. "Now look you here, you imbecile – "

"Not manly enough, eh? You won't stand a chance against me."

Austria narrowed his eyes dangerously at the smirking face looking at his. "What are your conditions?"

Prussia shrugged (or as much of a shrug as he could manage with one of his arms in Austria's hand). "It's simple really. Any sport you choose, since you are the underling – "

"Watch your words."

"And if you win, I owe Hungary a..." Prussia's face twisted. "A day of shopping." He stuck his tongue out at her.

"And," Hungary added. "If you win, Prussia will go with you to the Nibelungeleid opera."

Austria's eyes widened in surprise. "Really?"

"Yes," Hungary smirked. "The entire thing."

Austria let Prussia's arm go. "And he will behave the entire time?" He shot Prussia a disbelieving look.

"Yes – " Hungary started.

"Now don't get your hopes up, Specs." Prussia again interrupted, smirking (again). "I ain't losing to the likes of you, so that ain't gonna happen."

"It will be very satisfying to wipe that smirk of your face, Prussia." Austria intoned darkly. Prussia's smirk grew wider.

"So!" Hungary said. "Do you accept, Austria?"

"… What happens if I lose?" asks Austria.

"You get to be my maid for a week," Prussia said casually, slinging an arm around Austria's shoulders and winking at him.

"What? Again? Wasn't it enough the last time around?" Austria demanded, trying to shrug out of Prussia's territorial grasp, and failing.

"Oh, I don't know, priss! It certainly was fun last time; don't you want to repeat it?"

"Dream on!"

"Or maybe we could modify it a bit… make you a nurse instead."

"Prussia!"

"Yeah, in the absolutely possible event that I win, I'll need to get myself someone who can relieve me of my…" Prussia leaned closer to the other's ear and whispered sensually. "Pain and… weariness."

Austria turned bright read again. "What is it, exactly, that you two think of me as?!" He demanded as Hungary seemed in danger of a nosebleed.

Prussia let out his signature laugh, Austria pushed himself free, and Hungary quickly blew her nose into a handkerchief.

"I accept!"

Prussia's laugh stopped abruptly and his eyes grew wide. "You accept?" he gasped.

It was now Austria's turn to smirk. "I challenge you to a round of Alpine skiing."

* * *

_A/N: Yeah, since this is a de-anon, it's actually complete. There are five parts; I'll just stagger my updates - once a week should be fine. Also, this is the first fic I've written for Hetalia, so please tell me what you think of it, and possibly crtique it if you may. I wish to be able to write better. Reviews will be received with much love!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: APH is not mine.

* * *

Part 2

Halfway across the room, Switzerland sighed in an annoyed manner. He shot a look at a rowdy bunch of drunks including France, Russia, and England; a dubious group of Nordics and the Netherlands with smoke coming out from their mouths; and the little micro-nations with Liechtenstein. He warily looked at the last group and shook his head. Liechtenstein had asked him to not worry about her, and he did trust her, and she couldn't get hurt; after all, those were _children_… Right?

"Idiots, the lot of them," he mumbled darkly.

"Hey there, Switzy, mind if I sit with you?" asked a bright voice.

"Belgium." Switzerland acknowledged, and nodded once. "I suppose not." Said nation smiled and took a seat across from him. She looked at the group with Liechtenstein.

"Aww, your little Liech has grown up, hasn't she?" she crowed.

Switzerland gave a non-committal grunt.

"I do hope she and Lux meet up some time! I'm sure they'd be good together."

Switzerland shot a look at her. Belgium panicked at the dark aura coming from the nation.

"Uh… I – what did I say? Heehee… uhmm… I actually meant… friends! Yes, of course! I meant they'd be good… friends!"

Switzerland gave her a last sidelong glance, then sighed stuffily. "I don't even know what I'm doing here."

Belgium smiled. "It's because she asked to come, didn't she?" Switzerland didn't reply. Belgium patted his arm comfortingly. "Don't worry; we all passed through that older-sibling-can't-resist-the-younger-sibling phase and survived!" She looked around the room. "Oh! I need to go now; big brother's doing something silly again. Bye, Switzy!"

Switzerland nodded stiffly and looked at his sister's group, who were building a house of cards. He looked a little behind them and spied Hungary, Austria, and Prussia.

The last country was… He was… hmm…

"WHAT THE HELL, SPECS, YOU ACTUALLY HAVE A SPORT?" Prussia shouted.

Switzerland stood up and (curiously… but he'd never admit that) approached their group.

"Well, knowing that you and your awesomeness don't lose to anything, ever, the fact that I did choose something doesn't change anything, right?" a very self-satisfied Austria asked Prussia.

"You… you… Argh! You are…. GAH!" Prussia gave up and sat down heavily with his head in his hands. "So, very unawesome," he mumbled into his hands.

Hungary placed a (much too heavy) hand on his shoulder. "I told you he has a sport to answer to that silly notion of yours. Now pay up."

Prussia frowned darkly at her. Hungary smiled cheerily at him.

Finally, someone (Austria) noticed the approaching country. "Good evening, Switzerland," he said.

Switzerland nodded and mumbled his own greeting. He spared Prussia a look and shot Austria a question, "What's with him?"

"Alpine skiing," Austria replied simply.

Switzerland's face broke into a menacing grin. "Now, _this_, I have to see."

Prussia warily looked between Austria and Switzerland and shot Hungary a pleading look. "What, exactly, did you get me into here?"

Hungary smiled sweetly at him. "We'll see, very soon."

Switzerland looked at her, all business-like. "So, what is this, exactly? They'll have a match-up?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Where?"

Hungary blinked. "Where?" She hadn't thought of that.

Fortunately (or not), Russia, who had been walking towards the bar, stopped, and was standing behind the group ever since he heard the words "Alpine skiing."

"Well~" he said, making his presence known, earning little _eep_ sounds from Austria and Prussia, who weren't expecting him.

"You all know that I am holding the next Winter Olympics in my country, da?" He asked innocently.

Switzerland nodded, quick to get to the point. "You volunteer to let us hold this competition on your land?"

"Da! And… you will even be able to act as test runners for the venue where we will be holding the competition. You should consider yourselves honoured."

Austria smiled. "We hit two birds with one stone, do we?"

"There are two sides to a coin, da?"

"Deal."

"Deal."

Hungary clapped her hands. "Oh, this is great! Let me make the announcement!" She ran towards the band playing on the stage.

"Wait, what, wait! Hungary!" Prussia exclaimed. Austria and Switzerland held him back.

"I think not, _mein liebling,_" Austria half-whispered, half-said into his ear. Switzerland smirked again.

Prussia shook their hands off and hurrumph-ed. "Whatever you two are thinking, you've got it all wrong. Awesomeness will never lose, do you hear me?"

Switzerland dismissively (ominously) said, "We'll see."

Hungary asked for the microphone from the band singer and got it. She positioned herself on stage and tapped on the mic.

"Excuse me, hi, yes, hello there, everyone!" she greets everyone as they turned to her. "Are we having a great party?"

There were woots and cheers from the crowd. Hungary beams at them.

"Well, I have an announcement to make! Austria and Prussia will be having an Alpine skiing match-off! Isn't that exciting?" She claps excitedly. After a momentary silence following the unexpected proclamation, people started clapping/whooping/laughing/whispering/shouting/whatever-else-you-can-think-of-at-this-moment.

Random shouts were heard from the party guests, such as:

"Is this for real?"

"Woah! Prussia, you're the man!"

"Wait, who challenged who?"

"_Bruder_, what are you up to?"

"Ve~ it sounds like fun, doesn't it, Doitsu?"

"Oi, potato bastard!"

Hungary raised her hand for silence. "Shush! There, now. Hey! Romano! Stop that! I'm not yet done! There. Very good," she smiled sweetly at the said nation. "Anyway, we're having the competition over at Russia's under the impression that we're test runners for the Winter Olympics, so that means it's public! I hope you guys could come, too!"

Shouts of approval were heard from the room. A (French) hand slithered up the air.

"Yes, France?"

"Well, mon cheri, I was thinking, such an event should not just be about brute strength! The snow… there is a certain grace about it. There should be, as we say, _art_ to it, non?"

Kugelmugel's attention was ripped away from the house of cards he was currently devoting his heart to. "Art?"

France heard him and turned his head, sauntering over to the group of young nations, triggering a certain overprotective older brother to click his gun warningly. France raised his hands innocently and smiled, showing he had no malicious intent (or did he, really?) towards the young nations.

"Oui, mon cher, art! Why, don't you think there should be some beauty to the competition? After all, it isn't everyday that our dearest _Austria_ agrees to events like this." He winked at the said nation, whose lips were thinned disapprovingly.

"I, like, totally agree," Poland interjected. "Your outfits are, like, totally drab and boring." He placed his chin on his hands and looked over Austria and Prussia with knowing eyes. "I could, like, make something totally hot for you two."

"Skis," added Kugelmugel softly. "We could make you skis, too."

"Awesome! This would be like, a mission for us, right?" Sealand asked excitedly.

"I'm in!" answered Ladonia. The other micro-nations sounded their approvals.

Liechtenstein looked at Switzerland (who had yet to move his gun away from France). "May I, brother?"

Switzerland nodded once, to which Liechtenstein smiled. "I'm in, too!" This earned her good-natured pats from the others.

"I'm sure that I could also provide some sort of… _entertainment_. I would gladly offer my… experience as a commentator to this event." France said.

Canada raised a hand. "I'll be with France, if I may." France offered him a charming smile, while the others looked around them, wondering where the sound came from.

America, oblivious as always, said, "WELL! PRUSSIA! I'm so proud of you, man! You did something utterly stupid –

England snorted. "You're one to speak."

America winked at him and continued his speech. " – and awesome at the same time, AGAIN! But don't worry, man. I'm the hero and I'll help you! Everything they're saying needs time anyway, and heroes definitely help those in need."

"Eh?" Prussia asked, surprised.

Denmark grunted and stood up. "He's right, man. The Awesome Trio'll help you out. We'll train you and all that shit."

"I don't – " Prussia started, frowning

Austria pushed him lightly. "He accepts. After all," he gave Prussia a side-long glance that momentarily stopped Prussia's heart in anticipation. "He needs all the help he can get."

England huffed. "I do not think this is fair."

"What? But Iggy – " America started.

"Just because Prussia gets help doesn't mean you can't have help, too, Austria. I'll help you get trained," England finished.

Norway soundlessly stood up, to the surprise of everyone, and walked towards Austria. "I am on your side." He shot Denmark a challenging look.

Hungary clapped her hands again. "It's a match!"

* * *

_I am sorry for the OOC-ness. Review? :3_


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **APH is not mine.

* * *

Part 3

The wind was insanely cold, but it was nothing new to him. Besides, what else would you expect from a Russian mountain?

Prussia smiled into the wind and bent down to put on his skis. He'd never admit it, but… he never really actually took skiing seriously. Snowboarding was much more his thing. This was the first time in a long time that he would be skiing again. He absent-mindedly listened to America and Denmark behind him, arguing about which training methods would be better for him.

Russia had (kind-heartedly? Prussia still shivered when wondering why Russia was being this kind) given him and Austria a week to practice before they'd compete. Today he got the morning, tomorrow he'd get the afternoon. Austria got the other half of the day.

"Hey, man, listen to me," Denmark said, calling Prussia's attention. "Austria's been the leader in this thing for a very long time. I was really surprised that Norway's teamed up with him 'coz Norway's been a leader in this thing, too. Good thing Switzerland didn't take his side coz that'd make this a lot harder than it already is." He let out a cheerful laugh.

"I wouldn't really worry about Iggy, though!" America tried to reassure him brightly. "He – "

America stopped speaking (amazing, right?) when another nation skied to a stop in front of them.

"Bruder!" Prussia exclaimed happily. Germany nodded at him.

"I have informed everybody who needs to know. I will also be Prussia's trainer," Germany told them simply.

"AWESOME!" America said, fist up in the air. "Austria'll get beat to a pulp for sure now! Between Germany and me, you will surely not lose, Prussia!"

"What's all this fuss you're all going about anyway? Of course I won't lose! Whether I train or not, I'll win for sure coz I'm just awesome that way."

Germany looked at him disbelievingly from the corner of his eyes. "So you say now," he mumbled to himself. He looked at Denmark and America. "May I have him first? Just for now."

The two countries shrugged and stayed at the sidelines as Germany told Prussia to follow him through a series of movements, which Prussia easily followed. America sighed happily.

"So he _could_ ski, even a little, I'll give him that," he said, beaming.

"Yeah, and not half bad, either. But you do know this is all just basic stuff, yeah?" Denmark answered.

America shrugged. "I was sorta expecting him not to know anything since he… you know, doesn't do skiing. He leaves it all to Germany over there."

"I don't enter either."

"But you're, like, made of snow, so it's expected already!" America said brightly, laughing.

Denmark smiled. "Actually, I don't enter 'coz I know Norge will never let me live down losing to him."

America, oblivious as always, laughed. "That's great, man! But seriously… do you think Prussia has a chance at winning this thing?"

"Honestly? No. But I think he still deserves some help."

"Like, yeah! If he loses by a very huge margin, it'll totally tarnish our reputation!"

Denmark threw his head back in laughter. He blinked away his tears and looked again at the grinning American. "Seriously, though, we should help him. He's an awesome friend, and I don't wanna see him get hurt… much."

America laughed. "At least not as much as he would've if we won't help him, right? Yeah, I'm right and awesome. That's what heroes are!"

Denmark grinned at America and waved as the two other countries returned to them.

"He could do the basic techniques," Germany reported. "Where are the slopes?"

"Finally!" America cheered. "Follow me!" he said, careening off to a different direction from where Prussia was facing. Denmark and Germany easily followed him but Prussia… fell after trying to turn.

His three companions stopped and looked behind them at the pile of snow Prussia had become. Germany slapped his forehead while America and Denmark made similar grimaces of pain.

"_This_ was what I was scared of," America said disheartedly.

"We have a long way to go," Germany mumbled.

* * *

Norway found Austria skiing up a slope, which he found quite strange to look at. He looked over at England, who was drinking something (probably tea) from a thermos bottle. He decided to leave the nation and met Austria at the top of the slope.

There was a thin sheen of sweat on Austria's forehead despite the cold. Norway raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him.

"Warm-up," Austria said, as if by means of explanation.

Norway nodded his head. "I see."

Austria let go of his ski pole and offered his hand to Norway. "It is an honour to work with you, Norway. Thank you."

Norway shook his hand. "The honour's mine. It's not every day that I get to work with champions like you."

Austria smiled. "Allow me to take that compliment. It is one of the few things I could truly take pride in."

"That is understandable."

England arrived beside them. He also took Austria's hand and shook it. "I was here during the Innsbruck games. I cannot believe Prussia was stupid enough to take you on."

Austria, to everyone's surprise, rose to Prussia's defence. "He did not know I skied."

"Preposterous! Everyone knows you are the champion at this sport."

Austria shrugged non-committaly. "He could be oblivious a lot of times."

England smirked. "And we will use that to the utmost. All of them are oblivious idiots."

Norway nodded and addressed Austria. "May we see what we have to work with? Since you have already warmed up."

"Of course." Austria positioned himself and pushed himself down the slope, surely, quickly, gracefully carving his way down the slope. Norway raised an eyebrow.

"This is not competition-level Austria," he remarked thoughtfully.

England furrowed his brows, eyes following Austria. "He's…" he realized something and looked at the trail Austria had left. He grinned. "He's carving."

"Carving!" Norway exclaimed, voice not really changing, but surprise evident in the slight widening of his eyes. He also looked at the path Austria created. "I see… Well. All I can say is that training will be fun."

* * *

Later that evening, the nations met up at the hotel's café. After giving their orders, England immediately called their attention.

"Tell me, what sort of competition have we agreed on again?" he asked.

Russia answered. "I was hoping we could do the super combi. After all, it _is_ the test run."

Germany looked at him. "You have such a slopes for our purposes?"

"Da. It's just a little to the east from here. The lift is still under construction, but you could treat the time it takes to get there as a warm-up of sorts. I could even take you there myself…"

Austria was only half-listening to the conversation. There was something wrong here and it revolved around a certain albino.

Specifically, the albino was not part of the conversation.

And said albino was not doing anything to be part of the conversation.

Austria looked at him expectantly, but for once Prussia did not lift his head and do some sort of lewd gesture.

Austria frowned.

Austria started when Hungary gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, I was zoning out. What is it?"

Hungary's eyes flicked towards Prussia and back at Austria, mirroring the latter's concern. "Russia was just asking if you and Prussia would be okay with going to the venue at the same time tomorrow."

Austria absent-mindedly nodded. "I'm fine with that."

America, who was sitting beside Prussia, waited for a reply from the albino but, not getting one, answered in his place. "We're fine with it, too."

The rest of the dinner was awkwardly silent, each wondering what made Prussia uncharacteristically silent that evening.

After the dessert, Austria could not stand it anymore. "Prussia," he called to the nation in front of him. The others at the table stopped eating and watched the two of them.

Prussia did not mind him.

Austria gritted his teeth. "Prussia," he tried again.

Prussia just continued to rotate his cake around his plate.

Austria kicked him below the table.

Prussia gave him a half-hearted glare, then returned to glumly moving his food around.

Austria's heart sank.

Germany cleared his throat and called for the waiter, telling him to charge the dinner to their room. Addressing the other nations, he said, "Well, it has been a tiring day and will be again tomorrow. I'm sure it would be beneficial to all of us if we turn in early for tonight."

England nodded. "Yes, I agree. Let's go."

Everyone murmured their good evening's and each went his/her own way to their rooms. Hungary passed by Austria's chair and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

When everyone except Austria and Prussia had left, Prussia pushed himself away from the table.

"Wait, Prussia, please," Austria said.

Prussia could not look him in the eyes. Instead, he looked off to the side. "Night, Specs," he murmured, and left.

Austria was left at the table, wondering what in the world was happening to Prussia, what he could have done, and what he could maybe do to change it.

* * *

Austria could have enjoyed the refreshingly chilly October air. He could have enjoyed the beautiful scenery unfolding itself before him, the vast slopes of white, the feeling that you're in the clouds. He could have enjoyed the rare bout of stamina he had been enjoying the past week, where he'd only get tired when he got to bed.

In fact, Austria could have enjoyed every little thing about their ski trip.

Except he didn't. He couldn't. He wanted to, but… there was… Prussia.

Prussia, who was trudging along like a moveable dead weight at the end of their little ski party. Prussia, who wasn't talking to anyone at all. Prussia, who responded only to the simplest of commands.

The night before, Austria tried to convince himself that it could have been a plot for him to lose his guard. That plan almost succeeded, too.

If he hadn't seen Denmark, America, and Germany pleading for Prussia to eat some more during breakfast. If he hadn't seen how carelessly Prussia had put on his winter clothes. If he hadn't seen how Prussia didn't seem to be concerned when Hungary fixed it for him.

There was definitely something wrong here.

Austria hung back to meet up with Germany, who was shaking his head at another failed attempt to get Prussia out of his shell.

"Germany," started Austria. "Could you please tell me what happened?"

Germany looked worriedly behind him towards his brother. "If I only knew what happened. When we were training, he seemed fine. Then he asked to ski on his own, and we let him. When he came back to the hotel he was… like that."

Austria frowned. He let Germany walk ahead of him and started to trudge in stride with Prussia.

It was then that he noticed something missing.

"It's Gilbird, isn't it?" he asked softly, without directly looking at Prussia. Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed Prussia's lips thin.

Austria nodded once. "I see," he said. He then caught up to the head of their party.

* * *

The course was _awesome_, was all any one of them could say.

When they returned to the hotel that evening, everyone was too tired to eat together. They decided to take their dinners in their separate rooms.

When Hungary returned to the room she shared with Austria, she noticed him placing something yellow inside a box.

"Austria?" she asked.

"Yes, Hungary?" he replied.

Hungary hesitated. "Uhm…"

Austria turned to face her and gave a small smile. "What is it?"

Hungary changed the question in her head. "I hope beef stew is okay for you? It will take 10 minutes, or so I was told."

Austria nodded. "Thank you, Hungary, that is fine enough. If it does take 10 minutes, as you say, please excuse me for a while. I… need to take care of something."

Hungary smiled. "Of course, Austria. I'll call you when the food gets here."

"That would be much appreciated, Hungary. Thank you." With that, he stood up, brought the box, and stepped outside.

Hungary had to resist the temptation to squee at how obvious it was that Austria was genuinely worried about his opponent.

* * *

There was a knock on the door. Germany stood to get it.

"Oh, good evening, Austria."

"Guten abend, Deutschland. May I speak with Preusen, please?"

Germany recognized that Austria slipped into German because he's nervous (it's a nervous habit he, himself, possesses). "Actually, I was just on the way out. Mein bruder is inside."

"Danke schon." The door clicked shut.

Austria took a deep breath. He told himself to move inside. One step at a time. Soon, he was standing in front of a sleeping albino. Austria knelt down to his level. His eyes softened at how tired Prussia seemed to be. He allowed himself just one stroke of the nation's hair, left the box at his bedside table, and showed himself out.

When the door clicked shut again, Prussia cracked open one eye, then two. He quietly slipped out of bed and checked if he was really alone. Then, he opened the box and took the bright yellow thing out. He blinked.

It was really soft, this thing. It was like a pillow of sorts, and probably contained cotton inside. It was round-ish and had two small black spots and one cute little orange protrusion just beneath the middle of the spots.

Prussia blinked again and squeezed the thing experimentally. Yeah, it really was soft. He hugged it to himself and lay back down on the bed. He caught himself smiling and told himself to stop.

As he drifted off to sleep, one thought stayed with him through his dreams. _Whatever comes out of this, at least I know Specs won't give up on me_.

* * *

_Hmm... I was supposed to write a chapter of their training sessions, but found out I knew next to nothing about how skiers train, and this is what came out instead. __I am so sorry, this was such a wth filler/chapter thingo, especially towards the end… It seriously just wrote itself down. I now understand what writers mean when they say that. :-j Reviews would be lovely~ :D_


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **APH is not mine.

* * *

Part 4

_[I sincerely apologize for failing in the actual request part. I live in a place where there is absolutely no hope of skiing to ever happen and I myself am not a sports fan. I watched some youtube vids and read up on skiing to be able to write this chapter. I hope it delivers... ]_

It was half an hour until the competition would begin and... Hungary was beside herself with worry.

"WHERE THE HELL IS FRANCE?" She shouted to no one in particular. The people near her cringed at the how annoyed she sounded.

When no one answered her, she stalked over to the commentators' stand and grabbed the person inside.

"Canada. Tell me why France. Is. Not. Here." she demanded.

Canada cringed. "Eh?"

Hungary heaved a heavy sigh and rubbed her forehead. "I need you to start already. Maybe we could do some runs first? Here, wear this headset. It's connected to both Japan, who's in the control tower, and me, who'll be in the audience. If you want to speak to us, just press this button."

"U-uhm… Okay."

"Okay. And I will look for a replacement." Hungary pushed Canada back inside the room, put on a determined face, and stalked away. She flipped out her phone and called France. Her headset crackled to life.

"Hungary-san?" she heard Japan's voice over the ringing of her phone.

"I'm calling France. He's still not here," she answered, not able to keep the edge of irritation out of her voice.

"I'm sorry to hear that, but – "

"I gave Canada his set already," she said in a milder tone.

"Thank you. Canada?"

"Yes, I'm here." A soft voice answered.

"Are you ready?" asked Japan.

"Yes."

"Alright, in three, two, one, go."

"G-g-good morning everyone! Uhm, it's a beautiful day isn't it…" Canada started his commentary.

Hungary zoned out of her surroundings and into her phone.

"Bonjour – "

"France, you idiot! You – "

"You have reached my phone. Leave a message after the loving beep!" _Beep_.

Hungary resisted the urge to throw her phone down the steepest slope she could find. After all, that wouldn't be practical. And it would certainly waste such an important gadget. She grumbled to herself as she returned her phone inside her purse. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Switzerland sitting beside his sister. She slinked towards them.

"Well, hello there, Switzerland, Liechtenstein," she said.

"Hello, Miss Hungary," Liechtenstein answered. Switzerland nodded at her. Hungary smiled brightly at them both, then turned her attention to the elder.

"Switzerland, correct me if I am wrong, but you know more about skiing than anyone here in the audience, am I right?"

Surprised by her question, Switzerland gave a curt nod and an _mm_ sound, eyebrows furrowing curiously.

"And, unless I'm mistaken, you're actually the best out there?"

"Technically, in totality, Austria is. I'm second. Norway has the athlete with the most medals," Switzerland furrowed his eyebrows further as Hungary's grin grew wider. "Somehow, I don't think I'd like where this is going."

"Please, Switzerland, you have to help us!"

An eyebrow was raised. "Help you in what, exactly?"

"France is missing!"

"Good riddance, I'd say."

"That's not… wait… what?"

"What?"

"France is missing!"

"And I care because?"

"Only you can help us!"

"For what?" Switzerland asked, exasperated at Hungary's vague request. "You want me to look for him?"

"Not, no, not really, no. I was just hoping you could, you know, take his place…"

Switzerland and Liechtenstein's eyes grew wide.

"No – " Switzerland was about to say.

"Oh, brother, please say yes!" Liechtenstein said, her eyes shining at him. "I think it would be really nice if you could be the commentator. In fact, may I say that it would be awesome? After all, you do deserve to be one, with all your experience on skiing."

"Exactly!" Hungary agreed. "No one else could do it better than you!"

"Please, big brother?"

"Yeah, please, Switzerland?"

Switzerland looked at the two women in front of him. He wanted to say no to Hungary; of course he could do that, since it's no longer considered impolite to turn down a lady's request. But Liechtenstein's face, shining with pride and anticipation… He could never really turn her down, could he?

He stood up. "Fine." Liechtenstein clapped happily.

"Thank you, Switzerland!" Hungary said.

"May I stay with my brother?" Liechtenstein asked her.

"Of course you may, darling! Oh, and Switzerland? Just be yourself, okay? Don't pretend to be all formal on the radio. Be just as you want to be. And don't forget to ask Canada for your headset."

Switzerland gave a curt nod and walked toward the commentator's booth.

Soon, Hungary heard the demanding voice of the Swiss nation from the speakers. Some people seemed to have realized that someone was speaking just at that moment. Internally, Hungary felt bad for Canada, but she was really glad to have been able to convince Switzerland to take France's place.

"Switzerland, signing in, here with Canada today."

"Yes. It's a beautiful day today, with hard-packed snow. Temperature on ground is reportedly -5oC, and the air is only 2oC! Wonderful day for snowing events. I invite you to enjoy the weather after our little competition. And… uhm…" A sound of shuffling papers was heard over the speakers.

An audible sigh sounded soon after. "Well… what does one do as a commentator? A recap is in order, I guess. So, in a moment of audacity, the Self-Proclaimed Awesome Ex-Nation of Prussia has decided to get out of his basement. Unsatisfied by his lack of anything to do with life, he oh-so-wisely challenged the stereotypically weak, stamina-less, wimpy Republic of Austria to a sports match-off."

Canada continued. "Going by the stereotype, or so the rumours go, Prussia and Hungary had a bet wherein the former bet that Austria has no sport at all and would undoubtedly decline any sports challenge handed out to him."

Switzerland's turn. "He couldn't have been more wrong. To anyone following winter sports, Austria is, in fact, the _de facto_ champion of Alpine Skiing. He is second to none and in history holds the largest collection of medals in any and all Alpine Skiing related championships. According to this paper, he actually has twice the amount of medals his second runner-up has. In contrast, Prussia is…" Switzerland paused. Canada took this as his cue.

"Prussia is… Prussia… he has…" Canada looked at his partner helplessly.

The audience roared in laughter. Switzerland gritted his teeth.

"Right! In contrast, Prussia is a relatively new player in this sport. He used to play in conjunction with his brother, Germany, under the United Team of Germany when he was still East Germany and is now… from what I have heard, actually, he leaves alpine skiing to his brother and instead plays snowboarding for the two of them. Am I right, Canada?"

"Actually, yes. I've heard that, too. Regardless, he used to play once, so he shouldn't be counted out of this competition, right, Switzerland?"

"In protection of neutrality, I would agree. I will not show bias towards the one who I believe will be the winner of this competition, or against the other one…"

"Of course… Oh! Look! Here they come!"

The cameras showed Austria and Prussia just getting down from a snow-laden vehicle. Prussia waved enthusiastically at the camera while Austria offered a small smile before they retrieved their gear from the back of the car.

"Well, look here," Switzerland continued. "According to this checklist that was kindly provided to us, we have quite a number of nations and sponsors to thank for the masterpiece – cough, monstrosity, cough – that greets us today!"

Canada shot Switzerland a worried look, but took his cue in stride. "First of all, we thank Mr. Poland, who designed the outfits! A round of applause to Mr. Poland! Hurray!"

"Also, the micronations, lead by Mr. Kugelmugel, designer, and Mr. Sealand, manager, for the ski equipment! A round of applause to the micronations!"

"Of course, we must express our gratitude to our host for this event, Mr. Russia! It is beautiful what he has done to this slope, isn't it, Switzerland?"

"Really, it is wonderful to think about all the snow he had to move to be able to create this smooth arena," this comment made Canada slap his forehead helplessly. Switzerland ignored this gesture. "To anyone wondering, we would be having a combined event today."

"Yes. In this event, each of the contests would have to finish one downhill and one slalom run. The one with the fastest combined time wins."

The audience roared to life as they saw Austria and Prussia start skiing before the stands, as requested by Hungary.

"There they are," remarked Switzerland. "Just like Mickey and Minnie Mouse. Who was the idiot who got the idea of putting such a large, garish ribbon on Austria's helmet, anyway? He'd better take that off later; aside from that being against the rules, it will contribute to slowing him down, undoubtedly."

"Aww, Switzerland, don't be too harsh on Mr. Poland. He worked hard to make these outfits, I quote, _fabulous_."

"Oh yes, of course, fabulous. Fabulously pathetic. This does not look professional at all."

In the audience, Poland could be seen trying to fight his way towards the commentator's booth, being held back by a clearly panicked Lithuania. Canada gulped nervously.

"B-but, surely! There are some good aspects about their costumes!"

"Poland did do something right. Actually, in the name of neutrality, fine, I was being too harsh. The outfits… just remove the ribbons and sequins and… why in heaven's name do they have capes? … If ALL OF THOSE are removed, I guess Poland did do a great job."

"What about the skis, Switzerland? What do you think of them?"

"I had the pleasure of talking with the designer earlier. Mr. Kugelmugel. He described it in one simple sentence and left me. I quote, 'It's art.' Mr. Ladonia spoke for him instead. According to the kid, Kugelmugel really does take his art to his heart. After living with Austria, Kugelmugel reportedly has discovered the flaws in some current ski blade models and has reconfigured them himself. These new blades, as claimed, should lessen the likelihood of sprains and broken bones if either of our competitors was stupid enough to do something that would need that preventative measure. He applied the fibreglass torsion-box technology and tweaked around with it a little. Hopefully, that tweaking wouldn't kill our competitors." Switzerland blinked. "But then again…"

"Well!" Canada interjected, chuckling nervously. "U-uhm… It seems as if our competitors are getting ready, eh? Tuning in to Miss Hungary. Good morning! What's it like down there, eh?"

Hungary beamed as the cameras tuned in on her, flanked by the two skiers. "Good morning, Canada, Switzerland, and everybody else who is watching! I have here, today, Austria and Prussia. Do you two have any words to say to the audience?"

Prussia grabbed her mic. "Hell yeah! Get ready for the awesomest competition and winner ever!" He turned to Austria, winking. "And you, priss. I look forward to _working_ with you. Hey!"

That last exclamation was due to Hungary's reclaiming of the mic. "Be thankful that you're going to compete, Prussia; otherwise, I would have hit you very hard with my frying pan," she told him sweetly. He stuck his tongue out at her and smirked at the cameras.

Hungary turned to her other companion. "What about you, Austria? Do you have anything to say?"

Austria nodded his head once and reached for the mic. Hungary gave it to him. He offered her and the cameras a slight, determind frown, attempting a ghost of a smile.

"First of all, I'd like to thank everyone who's worked hard for this event. I'd also like to thank you in the audience for setting aside some of your time to watch this event. Lastly, thank you, Prussia," said nation looked at him, surprised. "For giving me a chance to show the world that Austria cannot _just_ be looked down upon." Austria returned the mic to Hungary, who was blushing, with a very satisfied air as Prussia just gaped at him. The audience _ooh_-ed at the confident statement. Austria nodded to both of his companions and skied off to the lift. Prussia, not about to admit defeat, raced after him with a defiant "Oi!"

Hungary shook her head and chuckled. "Well, Canada, Switzerland. All I can say is, it's lively between those two again… as usual. Back to you, guys!"

As Switzerland and Canada continued their sports trivia and details run down, Prussia caught up with Austria at the lift. Austria turned around and held out his hand.

"May the best man win," he said sportily.

Prussia took his hand and grinned. "Don't exert yourself too hard, Specs. I'll be a good master."

Austria tightened his grip on Prussia's hand. "You'd better behave during the opera."

They stared each other down until a resounding bang was heard through the now-screeching speakers and a surprised, high-pitched cry of "Mon Dieu!"

Back at the commentator's booth, a smoking hole was seen on the door, mere centimetres from France's forehead, who was an arm's length away from a clearly surprised Liechtenstein. The cause of the hole was, surprise, surprise, a certain green-eyed nation who seemed to have a supernatural ability of sensing the presence of perverts and lewd thoughts, especially around his sister.

"Step away from the lady, France," he said, tone clearly that of warning.

Seeing an opportunity to entertain, Japan zoomed the cameras into their booth.

In the audience, England was beside himself with glee. "Take that, you bloody frog!"

France, oblivious of all this, tried to talk himself out of the situation. "Oh, mon Suisse, it's not what you think it is!"

An audible click from Switzerland's gun. "What is it, then?"

Canada tried to mediate. "Please, Switzerland, France, stop this already! We have to get ready for the competition!"

Liechtenstein stepped towards her brother, mindful to stay away from the gun's line of attack. "Brother! Don't worry, nothing happened!"

Switzerland's eyes flicked towards her, which was all France needed to vanish with an _eep_ sound. Switzerland sighed and put his gun back down. "It was what he might have done that I'm afraid of."

Liechtenstein smiled at him. "Don't worry, brother! I can take care of myself!"

France appeared beside Switzerland. "Oui, Suisse! She totally could!"

Without batting an eyelash or moving his head, Switzerland delivered another shot just centimetres shy of its target, hitting a few stray strands of golden hair. France's eyes grew wide and Canada pushed him back.

"Switzerland!" Canada pleaded. "At this rate, you'll have to pay for a new booth!"

The mention of payment made Switzerland's face grow hard, and he put his gun back in its holster. He shot France a dirty look.

"Stay away from my sister. If you must stay, be a commentator in my place."

His headset crackled to life, Hungary's voice clearly heard. "No, Switzerland, don't!"

Surprised, Switzerland and Canada looked below them into the screen that shows what the cameras were currently trained on. Small screens showed Austria's, Prussia's, and the general audience's shots, but the largest screen in the middle had them. Canada blushed and Switzerland frowned.

Hungary spoke again. "Give France another set. You three could be our commentators. You've all got amazing ski records, anyway."

Japan, recognizing a dismissal, cut the feed from the commentators' booth and gave it to Hungary instead. She cheerfully waved at the cameras from her position in the audience.

"My, my, that was lively wasn't it? Our commentators, all at each others' throats… This day could only get more exciting! Why don't we check in on Prussia, who's due to come down the downhill slope first?"

Japan halved the feed between Hungary and the top of the slope.

"Hey, hey, yo, nearly awesome people of the world! America-the-hero is here!"

"And Denmark! And, oh, Germany's back there, but he's busy telling Prussia some stuff, so you're stuck with us for now."

"Hey there, guys," Hungary greeted them back. "So, do you wanna tell us anything about Prussia?"

"Nothing much except that he's been really excited about this whole thing!" America said.

"Yeah! He's been training real hard, too." Denmark added.

"Do you think he'll win?" asked Hungary.

Germany suddenly appeared and took the mic from the two all-to-willing-to-say-yes nations. "So as not to pre-empt anything, it would be safer to say that we believe he has a very good _chance_ at winning this competition."

Denmark and America nodded excitedly. "He loves downhill runs!"

"Thank you, America, Denmark, and Germany!" Hungary concluded. "That was from Camp Prussia. Are you okay up there in the commentator's booth?"

"Oui, mon cheri, we are ready!" France said. "I am the country of love~, France~, signing in as your commentator with trigger-happy Switzerland and maple-loving Canada. Ah, Prussia is getting ready for his run."

"Hold on to your seats – "

"Or what excuse for seats you have."

Canada shot Switzerland a pleading look, to which the other only shrugged. The screen started counting down as the crowd started to become quiet.

Beep.

"Oh, look, Prussia took off his outfit's hideous attachments."

Beep.

"Thank goodness."

Beep. Beep. Beep. BEEP!

"YOU IDIOT, YOU WASTED A THIRD OF A SECOND THERE!" Switzerland screeched into his mic when Prussia hesitated after the beep sounded.

"And off he goes!" said France.

Canada blinked. "Wow, for a newcomer, he certainly is doing quite okay."

"Certainly. Not skiing out of the range can be considered skiing well." Switzerland said, rolling his eyes. "That third of a second could've been all it takes to defeat Austria in this match."

"Will he be able to catch up?" Canada asked mysteriously.

"Well, he certainly is gliding quite… well, down there," France answered." As we can all see, he has taken the American technique. As straight down the lane as possible, using his weight wherever possible. Practically just jumping off those slopes."

"That'll hurt his knees later," Switzerland commented drily.

"Will this be enough, I wonder?" Canada asked, referring to France's comment.

"We'll see," France said.

"Ooh!" the crowd went when Prussia nearly skidded off the track.

"That was some good manoeuvring down there. Way to go, Prussia," Switzerland said sarcastically. "You'd think he's so good as to afford these time-consuming pranks twice in one event!"

"Now, now, Suisse," France said, chuckling. "Don't be so harsh on him. After all, it _is_ his first time."

"And he _was_ the challenger," Switzerland fought back.

"Only one more slope to go," Canada interjected. "And the clock is in at 2:05.45. Will he be able to obtain a time fast enough that Austria cannot beat easily?"

"Oh my, that is one beautiful slope." France said, gasping.

"Well, who'd have thought Russia would outdo himself here?" Switzerland answered back, smirking.

"That slope would've taken me at least 10 more seconds!" Canada gasped.

"And that, folks, is from a time and tested champion," Switzerland said. "Let's see what Prussia can do."

The crowd held its breath as Prussia bent his knees closer to himself. Prussia's eyes turned to slits behind his helmet as he calculated what it would take to finish this as quickly as possible. The screen showed the feed from his helmet cam, where there seemed to be an endless, steep, down-winding slope. Prussia spied the finishing flag…

And promptly got his skies tangled with each other.

The crowd roared back to life as he passed the finish line on his side. On screen, Japan was showing shots, in succession, of Prussia behind the flag, Austria at the top of the slope, eyes wide, and panned views of the audience, all with shock written on their faces.

In the commentators' booth, hell broke loose.

"YOU IDIOT, WHAT WAS THAT?"

"No, no, no, no, no, Prussia! Why did you – "

"Prussia finished with the clock in at 2:18.39 on his side! The paramedics are there; will he be alright?"

"Damn the paramedics; that was a beginner's mistake!"

"Prussia only started re-learning the sport two weeks ago, after all."

"He should have not participated in such a slope, nor performed as well if that is his level!" Switzerland's eyes were practically balling out.

At the top of the slope, Norway (because England had left them for that stands) looked at his trainee. Austria's confident mask was off for the moment, replaced by what he recognized as concern. He placed a reassuring hand on Austria's shoulder and nodded encouragingly at him. Austria took a deep breath.

"If what they said is true, I guess I should be thankful this only happened at the end of his run," Austria commented.

Norway gave a curt nod, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Prussia's team had just reached the fallen ex-nation. "Do not let this affect your own performance," he reminded Austria.

Austria nodded, and looked down at the screen again.

"He's up! He's up! Prussia has gotten back on his feet!" France shouted through the speakers. The cameras zoomed in on Prussia, who was grimacing, but tried to smile at the crowd when he heard it cheer. He looked back up the slope. Japan, who is quick to understand such things, zoomed in on Austria's face. Caught red-handed with relief written on his face, Austria quickly turned away from the camera and put on his helmet.

"Hopefully, the idiot wouldn't repeat the same mistake, eh, Canada?" said Switzerland.

"I would appreciate it if you stopped mocking me," Canada mumbled shyly.

France shot Switzerland a look and quickly changed the topic. "So, Switzerland! What's your assessment of the damage?"

"I think he was overacting," Switzerland replied. "He probably never fell that hard before, but that couldn't result in more than a few bruises later this evening."

"Of course, we'll have to check in with the paramedics for that. How goes it, Hungary?"

"Yes, France. I'm here with Mr. Sweden. He's the captain of the paramedic's team. How bad is the damage, sir?"

Sweden nodded at the camera. "He'll live," he mumbled.

"Any major problems we should anticipate?"

"No."

"And there we have it! Thank you, Sweden."

Said nation nodded again, and ran to catch up with the rest of his team.

"Anyway," Hungary continued. "We caught a snapshot of Austria getting ready for his run! Will what happened just now affect his performance? Let's check in on his team. Hello, Norway!"

The screen again showed half shots of Hungary in the track and Norway (with Austria behind him) at the top of the slope. With half-lidded, bored-looking eyes, Norway acknowledged her in a monotonous voice. "Hello."

"Do you have anything to say to the audience?"

"Get ready."

Hungary smiled, waiting for a continuation. When she realized that nothing else was coming, she blinked and asked, "Do you think Austria will win?"

"Yes."

Again, no elaboration. "Even with what just happened?" she prodded.

"He is unaffected."

The crowd was silent at such confident words and the nearly icy tone that the Nordic was employing. Hungary, on the screen, looked a little perplexed at the lack of response she was obtaining.

She chuckled nervously. "Well… There we have it. Thank you, Norway."

Norway nodded, and the feed was cut.

Hungary smiled. "Back to you, our beloved commentators!"

"France," started Switzerland. "What do you think the chances are of Austria winning this match?"

"Truthfully? If I didn't know he was a skier, I would've stood by my previous notion that Prussia would win, despite his fall and his third of a second delay. But Austria's track record in this sport is notorious for the amount of events he wins per year. Also, he is a crowd favourite. Everyone knows his track record. He is _the_ skier. Prussia won the crowd with his social appeal, but everyone knows what Austria's capable of."

"What, you don't believe in your friend?"

"I believe in history, mon cher."

Liechtenstein grabbed her brother's arm before he could bring out his gun.

"Aaannnddd the countdown begins!" announced Canada.

His three companions immediately turned their attention to the slope below them.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. BEEP!

"Now that's the start I'm talking about!" Switzerland cheered.

Canada elaborated for him. "That was a beautiful take-off, with Austria pushing himself just with the right amount of force from the top of the slope, already covering a few meters of the track."

"If only he'd stop dancing and race for real," Switzerland mumbled darkly.

"But, Suisse!" France exclaimed, surprised. "It is art, do you not see? The way Austria glides through the track is like a cherub gliding down from the clouds to our land."

An audible crack of a certain electronic piece was heard reverberating in the arena. Japan fidgeted with his headset. "Hungary-san? Hungary-san?"

France chuckled. "My, my, what beautiful choreography! Austria should earn extra points, just for the sheer grace and splendour he oozes with."

"There are no points, France, my dear, dear, friend," Switzerland sarcastically replied. "This is just a race to the finish."

"And therein lies the tragedy of life."

"Amazing!" Canada enthuses. "At only 1:36.19, Austria is already at the head of that turn which took Prussia 2:05 long!"

"It would've taken more than a third of a second, after all." Switzerland commented.

They all watched as Austria took the turn, never missing stride, and practically not even slowing down. The crowd cheered as Austria crossed the finish line, gracefully skidding to a stop to bow at them.

"Austria has finished the race with an amazing record of 1:42.68! Hurray for Austria!" cheered Canada.

"Our time-keeper has it right," continued Switzerland. "The winner for this round is undoubtedly Austria, who has more than half a minute's lead against Prussia, the challenger. Of course, this isn't the end of the race. We still have the slalom. Would you care to explain to us what a slalom is, oh mighty French Republic?"

"Before that," France replied, winking at Switzerland, "let's check in on our winner first, oui? Hungary?"

"Yes, France!" Hungary replied from the track. "Austria, what does it feel like to have more than half a minute's lead on Prussia?"

Austria's helmet was removed, and he was smiling. "I don't know, actually," he replied into the mic. "For all his bravado, I was expecting Prussia to deliver more than he did."

"Would you care to elaborate, Austria?"

"No, not really. It's just that I expected it to be a tougher match."

The crowd went wild with the thinly-veiled challenge. Austria turned toward them and gracefully punched a fist up in the air, as he had seen athletes on TV do.

Hungary was not fooled, though. She could see Austria's worry.

Nevertheless, she did not call attention to it.

She laughed into the camera. "Well, all the best of luck to the both of them, I suppose! Back to you, commentators!"

"Thank you, Hungary!" France replied. "So, Suisse, in answer to your question, the slalom is a type of downhill run wherein the skier would have to move between two poles. This requires tactics and correct calculations of timing and weight moving. This is a very technically-exhaustive run. Since we have a combination event, we will only have one slalom run. We add the time the contestant had in the previous run to this one, and determine who has the faster time. That person would obviously be crowned our winner."

"Yes. Thank you, France. Your time in skiing has not been wasted after all. At the other end of the arena, we can see our slalom slope. Would you look at that? A beautifully curving slope with – how many did they place? 64? – gates for Austria and Prussia to ski through. I would love to try that some time soon."

"Why don't you try it now, Suisse?" France challenged. He was ignored.

"It seems as if Prussia is ready!" Canada said, to relieve the awkward tension in the room.

"Unlike in the previous run, there is absolutely no chance for Prussia to," Switzerland flicked a look at his sister "mess up his starting time. The countdown will begin as soon as he pushes himself off the platform. So you'd better do things better this time around!" Switzerland challenged Prussia.

On screen, Prussia was shown to be giving a thumbs-up sign, supposedly in response to the challenge. He positioned himself, took a moment to gain his balance, and pushed off the podium.

"Good take-off," Canada noted. "To remind everyone, Prussia finished his downhill run at 2:18.39."

"As we can see, Prussia has set up a steady rhythm for the first part of the slalom. Here, we have evenly-spaced, close together gates. Let's see if he can continue this pace for the longer slalom part."

"Good technique."

"Better than what he exhibited earlier."

"Considering what happened."

Prussia tried to block off the commentator's voices, but found it difficult not to. He shifted a little to the left, to the right, a little more to the right, some left, and – oops!

"Woah! That was close. He nearly missed that gate there."

"Hey. Start thinking properly down there!"

"35 gates down, only the widely spaced gates to go. The clock is in at 2:45, folks."

Prussia sucked in a breath, preparing for the longer run. He applied a little more pressure on his skis in anticipation of the curves, slowing down as per Denmark's instructions.

"What is he thinking? Now is not the time to slow down!"

In the podium, Denmark muttered "oops."

Prussia muttered silently about commentators who should put socks in their mouths and continued the slope at his slower speed, careful to not miss any gate.

Silence.

It was peaceful, almost. Prussia gained a little more confidence, and pushed himself a little faster, but –

"Mon Dieu!"

"Did you see that? The blue gate hit his face!"

"Poor pole."

"Switzerland."

"What."

"He's still pushing through."

"Good choice."

Prussia skied past the last gate and skidded to a stop with his hands on his knees. He looked at the screens for his time.

"Aanndd, there we have it! A photo-finish of the ex-nation, Prussia, whose total time is 3:05.56 for our combination event!"

Prussia removed his helmet and grinned at Hungary, who was quickly approaching him with a mic in her hands.

"Prussia, how does it feel to finally finish your races?"

"It's like, woah! I'm done! It feels awesome! Take that, Austria! You can't beat a time like that! And that pole gate thingo? SO UNAWESOME. I think it wants to pick a fight, but I'll let it be coz I'm just awesome that way."

Hungary good-naturedly patted him on the back. "Sure, Prussia, of course. Well, congratulations on finishing the race and you should hope that Austria won't beat you coz you'll have a lot of paying up to do!"

Prussia waved a hand indifferently. "Pfshaw, he won't beat me. No one can beat the mighty Prussia!"

Hungary raised both her eyebrows. "So you say now. Well, thank you, Prussia! Let's watch Austria's run now!"

"Yeah, let's watch!" Prussia agreed.

Japan cut off their feed and zoomed in to Austria positioning himself on top of the slope.

"Here is Austria, positioning himself at the start. Just to remind everyone, he finished the downhill run at 1:42.68, just – oh! There he goes!"

"And dancing, again, why am I not surprised?"

"It is beautiful, non? As if we could play music to the rhythm of Austria's slides and thunks to the poles." Cue sniggering.

Canada gave France a pleading look. "Well, to refresh our memories, that's more than half a minute's lead to Prussia. I personally think that's more than enough of a lead to beat the other nation, who ended his combined event at 3:05.56, giving Austria 2 minutes and 23 seconds to catch up."

"Actually, the clock's just at 2:05, and Austria's already done with the 35 gates."

"What?!"

"Blink and you'd miss it."

"I really did miss it!"

"There, there, Canada. You are undoubtedly not alone. Austria's like water here, effortlessly trickling his way down."

Switzerland grunted. "And like water, he's got no form. Look at that! Sloppy!"

"It's called carving, mon cher."

"Which shouldn't even be – "

"He's done! Austria's finished with his race at an amazing time of 2:15.23!"

The feed showed Austria gracefully removing his helmet and acknowledging the thunderous praise from the crowd with a small smile. Hungary walked over to him.

"Congratulations, Austria! You have won!"

Austria smiled warmly at her. "Why, thank you, Hungary. I – "

Austria's answer was cut short when a certain nation gracelessly fell off his podium.

Switzerland rolled his eyes. "And may I present to you our Special Drama Queen Awardee, Prussia!" he commented drily.

* * *

_[S_

_I'm so sorry that they're all quite OOC. And I'm also sorry this update is late - I just got home from school now (it's 10:30 pm where I live)._

_Reviews will be accepted with love~ :"_


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer**: APH not mine.

* * *

Part 5

"It was really cool, when he – "

"I know."

"And when – "

"I know."

"But then you – "

"I FREAKING KNOW ALREADY, ALRIGHT? Sheesh, I've heard the story over and over again."

Prussia glumly hid his face behind a glass of beer from his overly-excited trainer, who was still gushing over his enemy's victory.

After the event, the nations were invited to a little get-together, to which most came, while some took the opportunity to go skiing themselves. The get-together was hell to Prussia, who was just unable to stop replaying such an unawesome loss in his mind. Well, if it was to someone respectable like West or even England, he wouldn't feel so bad, but Austria? The sissy shouldn't even be able to walk 10 meters without needing to stop for a rest!

America shrugged at his companion's emo-ness. "Well, if you don't wanna talk, suit yourself. I'm going over to Iggy~"

Prussia followed the overly hyperactive nation with his eyes and saw him tackle-glomp the poor, obviously inebriated Englishman. His eyes scanned the room and found Denmark making significant moves on a certain Norwegian. Prussia shivered, wondering how anyone could get past the dark aura Norway always seemed to emit. Further inspection revealed West to be nursing Veneziano, who had somehow gotten a bruise during the event. France and Canada were off to a corner, whispering to each other, while Switzerland was cleaning his guns. Nearby, he heard the eager talk of the micronations gushing over… Austria. Of course. Why would they gush over the loser, anyway?

Red eyes closed as the albino took another swig of his drink. He let the glass fall heavily on the table. "So unawesome," he mumbled to himself.

He heard light footsteps approaching, and a light lavender scent reached his nostrils over the powerful smell of beer.

"If you've come to gloat, Specs, go away. I'm not in the mood."

Silence.

Prussia cracked open an eyelid to peek at Austria, who was (to his surprise) not looking at him, but towards the rest of those in the room.

"Oi, Specs! When will you ever give me the attention I deserve?" he demanded, sitting up.

Austria shot him a look from the corner of his eye. Then, a sharp pain sprang from the back of his head.

"What the – Specs! What in the world was that for?"

"Don't ever scare me like that again."

Prussia blinked. "What?"

"I know both those falls were just light ones, but mein gott, Prussia, you have to be more careful!"

Prussia blinked again. "I – "

Austria sighed and looked at him fully in the face. Convinced of Prussia's full attention, Austria changed tactics and instead offered him a very self-satisfied smirk. "I won, Prussia. I won by a very large margin. You know what that means, don't you?"

Prussia paled. He had been trying to forget about that.

"IT WAS JUST A STUPID BET, OKAY?!" He wailed, much to Austria's (and Hungary's) amusement.

* * *

"Now, remember, Prussia, it's – "

"I know, it's an opera," he replied, exasperated. "So I shouldn't shout, or make loud noises, or start jumping, or dancing, or whooting, or any of the other awesome stuff people do during an awesome concert coz this one is unawesome any way that you look at it."

Austria looked away, trying to hide his hurt expression (he knows he should have been used to Prussia saying things like this), but Prussia saw it in his eyes. "Hey," he said in a lighter tone. "That was a joke."

Austria shook his head. "You brought this unto yourself, Prussia, so you have no right to complain or joke about it."

Prussia's eyes glittered with mischief at what he felt was – but really wasn't – a challenge. "Sure, priss, sure."

"And one more thing," Austria said, looking him in the eye. "Since this is a public thing, I would rather…" he trailed off, cheeks turning red.

Prussia, ever so quick to decipher situations like this, wrapped an arm around Austria's shoulder and smirked. "This will be an awesome night, Roddy~"

"It's Roderich," Austria snapped.

* * *

Austria was pleasantly surprised. Prussia was true to his word. More than 18 hours of the opera cycle, and he was as courteous as a well-bred gentleman. There was even more than one occasion wherein Austria thought that Prussia was moved to tears (the laughter part was easy, Prussia being a very cheerful nation) by the music, but every time he looked, Prussia would look back at him, eyes completely dry, with one eyebrow up and a small smile.

Of course, what Austria didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Every time a comic part of the opera ended, Prussia would look at Austria's face and watch it. It was very much alive, in its own right. To others, it would just seem as blank and expressionless as usual, but Prussia basked in what feelings the Austrian's face exuded. Although Austria had undoubtedly heard the music countless times already, he would bat his eyelashes every time a surprise came up; his lips would curl when a snippet of agreeable music came; his eyes would narrow when he heard or saw anything otherwise; he would sway a little when the rhythm was to his liking; his mouth would open ever so slightly when the orchestra played something overwhelmingly beautiful, or when the singers twisted the plot in some way. And, perhaps, that was why Prussia was so behaved. Although the opera was boring as hell, although the singers seemed to be intent on breaking his eardrums, although this sort of thing was not his sort of thing at all, Prussia still found all of it bearable as long as he can stare at Austria's face without being interrupted. When Austria looked at him, Prussia would smile, because he'd be able to see that face full-on, and not be wondering what sort of mysteries abound the side which he could not watch.

What a sissy he truly was.

You saw/heard/red NOTHING!

* * *

On the drive back home, Prussia felt Austria staring at him while he was humming a tune from the opera.

"Hmm? Something wrong, Roddy?"

"It's Roderich," Austria corrected automatically, then shook his head. "The opera's over now, Prussia. Please refer to me by my country's name."

Prussia grinned. "Don't wanna."

Austria sighed and looked away.

Prussia flicked his eyes to Austria before focusing on the road again. Without warning, he smoothly parked the car in a little dark spot just at the side of the freeway, earning a startled sound and reproachful look from Austria.

"Prussia, what are we – "

"Shh," Prussia interrupted. "I just thought, you know, I'd repay you."

Violet eyes narrowed in confusion. "Repay me for…?"

Prussia took out a bag from the backseat and handed it to Austria. "You know… that last time."

Austria gingerly took the bag. "If this is some sort of joke, Prussia," he warned, placing his hand inside and feeling something furry and soft meet his touch. He pulled the object out of the bag and –

"Well? Do you like it, Specs?"

"Oh, Prussia, this is wonderful!"

Prussia grinned as Austria continued fussing over his new stuffed pillow-with-piano-designs thing. Actually, Prussia just saw it on sale in the mall the day before and, having nothing better to do with Germany's money, bought it on impulse.

When Austria had finished testing the pillow's softness (by burrowing his face in it), Prussia grabbed Austria's cheeks and kissed him full on, pleased by how Austria seemed at first surprised, but reacted exactly to his liking. He broke the kiss and revved up the car, smirking as Austria wiped some stray drool.

"Damn, I always wanted to do that," he said, driving away.

"Idiot," Austria half-heartedly said beside him.

* * *

Hungary was giggling at the screen of her phone.

"Oh, Japan, how much I do adore you,"

Japan blushed but continued watching the feed on the screen, which was taken live from a hidden camera in Germany's car (which Prussia had "borrowed").

Japan blinked when he realized something. "New phone?" he asked Hungary.

Hungary smiled. "He did take me out shopping after all."

* * *

_aaannndd, that's a wrap, you guys! Bonus 2 was fail, I'm sorry, I was trying to find out what Nibelungeleid was about, but the only things that came up were about it being played when Hitler went to Italy. -) No summary for me to get from there. Though I did notice in the previous fill that Prussia may have liked it… I still… hmm. :))_

_I hope you enjoyed this, and thanks for sticking through with me. For the last time, would you care to review? :"_

_Oh, and I promised someone a little omake with Gilbird. This was not part of the original fill, though._

* * *

OMAKE:

Gilbird trilled in happiness as he played around a basin of warm water he had found somewhere in the offskirts if Paris.

"Hmm?" said a voice above him. Gilbird looked up and spied a blonde-haired man.

Gilbird let out his infamously manly chirp: "Piii!"

Germany frowned, scooping up the protesting, soggy bird. "Brother was looking for you."

Gilbird suddenly took flight. Germany was left wondering whether the feathers which flew to his face were meant to end up there or Gilbird just did it by accident.

Alighting on a tree branch, Gilbird spied his albino bickering with a certain brunette. If he could, Gilbird would have shrugged. He flew away, towards a bird coop he had noticed while flying around earlier that morning.

He didn't mind it if the albino wanted to have fun, but he certainly didn't want to be bored while that's happening. This isn't the first time this is happening, anyway. That time in Russia was cold, but he had fun bonding with Russia's rabbits.

Maybe he could visit a few friends, now. At least 36 of them.

After all, he could have fun in Paris, too, can't he?


End file.
